What does quality time together mean
When everybody's glued to their smartphones
Mom and dad buy new gadgets
and forget each other... again.

Meals are left cold on the dining table
Nobody pays attention
to homecooked meals anymore
Food is rather thrown in the bin
or reheat again and again...
What is the value of mom's kitchen
when Domino's Pizza can be ordered via online?

The magicof smartphones...
Homes aren't cozy place for us anymore
Everybody enjoys secrecy... privacy...
Living far  apart
but breathing under the same roof....

Dear daughter comes home in tears
Dinner date a sheer disaster, she said...
He checks his Whatsapp notifications
every now and then...and smiling
reading his messages..,
A total shame...

Technology is meant for convinience sake
Same time rapidly ruins our everyday life
What has happenened to real conversations?
Hiding behind the sophisticated gadgets
What good is that?
Get rid of of your latest Samsung
and show your true face...

If he begs you to get back together with him and then breaks your heart,
He's not worth it.
If he tells you he'd sleep with your best friend,
He's not worth it.
If he brings up your past in which he was not involved in,
He's not worth it.
If he maked you want to douse your dreams in gasoline and strike the match against his cheek,
He's not worth it.
If he makes you feel like you are not a priority,
He's not worth it.
If he doesn't cry when you say goodbye for the last time,
He's not worth it.
If he doesn't let you call him late at night because this whole thing is killing you inside,
Then he's not worth it.
If he makes you want to take bottles and bottles of pills just to keep you from thinking about him,
Then he's not worth it.
He's not worth crying over day after day.
He's not worth the untouched food on your plate.
He's not worth those twenty pounds that you lost from lack of hunger.
He's not worth losing sleep over.
He's not worth beating myself up to death.
He's not worth the millions of missed calls you've sent him.
He's not worth the desperation in your voice when you beg him to stay.
He's not worth any of it.
You say you're confused and he doesn't give you closure.
He has all of your things in his house still,
And those things no longer hold value, because he's not worth the pain.
He's not worth the agony.
Talk to yourself in the mall, in the car, in your bed whenever you feel alone.
There are things you never got to say.
But talking to him at this point just makes things worse..
Block his number and all of his social media.
The thought of him ever wanting to come back to you after this will burn holes in your shoes.
He never really appreciated what you had to offer.
And trust me, I know it hurts.
But your friends will never have the right words to say.
Your family won't allow you to drive to his house in the middle of then night when you are broken and hell bent.
Romance, for me, so often ends in painstaking heart ache.
So you need to gather yourself.
Get up.
Brush your teeth.
Take a shower.
Eat a homecooked meal.
Go to work.
Start working out.
And get this boy off of your chest.
Scrub your self in the shower.
One day, you'll realize that this no longer hurts you anymore.
You've  done it before.
And you can do it again.

My mom doesn't always get it
Sometime's I feel like she only sees and hears what she wants
But she's always been there
She's voiced her concern with an endless supply of "You're my son and I love you"
I'm left speechless.
I don't know exactly how someone decides to become a parent let alone become one twice but the second time was me and I'm grateful.
Without this life I live I wouldn't know the joys of having a mother.
Especially mine.
Lived in the same house for over 20 years but made it feel different from the walls to the atmosphere
isn't a chef but puts a homecooked meal on the table almost every day of the week
Sometimes falls apart but never fails to bring the family together "How about a boardgame."
I always thought the term, "find someone to love that reminds you of your mother" a bit weird
But I get it now, because it would be an honor to any human being to be compared to my mother.

There’s magic in that love

Mothers’ homecooked Meals

She’s my rehab

Recoup dujour

Chicken soup for body

And soul

And heart

It’s a work of art.

There’s magic in her Love.

Red and white dotted fabric.
I spin around in my chic new dress.
My husband kisses me goodbye.
I iron out the clothes.

Stitch.
Sew.
Cut.
Pull.

Warm, homecooked meals.
We dine as a tune from our youth plays on the radio.
He places a rose on my empty plate.
I smile.

Thimbles coat my fingers.
I stick pins in fabric and sew it up together.
I feel a thud in my stomach.
I iron out the clothes.

He welcomes me home with gifts.
My baby boy is fast asleep.
My husband is slowly coming home later and later.
He hasn't noticed the holes in my arm.

I drink another shot, smiling at my sleepy baby boy.
My husband isn't home.
I pop my pills.
And I iron out the clothes.

The medicine isn't working anymore.
I can't stop his screaming.
Shut up.
Shut that child up.

My husband is yelling at me.
What did I do wrong?
He tears my new dress.
I iron out the clothes.

My baby won't stop crying.
Stop, please.
My husband is never home.
My head hurts.

I throw the pills down the drain.
I shakily brandish a knife.
I breathe.
And iron out the clothes.

Crimson splattered across walls.
An old tune from our youth plays on the radio.
My husband isn't breathing.
My baby boy stopped crying.

I feed my child and put him to sleep.
I sleep.
I spin around in my green and white polka dotted dress.
The fabric tearing at the seams.

I iron out the clothes.
The fabric.
The rope.

I leave a rose next to my child and stand up.
This necklace fits perfectly.
I take a bow in front of the mirror.
Don't I look pretty?

I kick the furniture.
Dancing midair.
My hair falls to my face.
I iron out the

never quite one
never both
belonging to neither
pushed to either side

it's a constant crisis.
like the petals of an iris
slowly blowing away from finding my
identity.

two worlds
unlike each other in every way
where each party says i am too like the other
something all immigrants and children of those
can understand.

the sweet smell of homecooked meals
permeating the neighborhood
full of those who could never appreciate.

the laughter of my friends
ringing in the air
of a home they could never quite understand.

the thoughts
invading my head
of a culture i tried to reject.

who am i?
two worlds
never quite one
never both
always pushed to either side.

There were not birds
or flies
or trees
or dirt
No people, nor comfort
or fear
or hurt
No love, no tears, no breaks or spills
no light
or dark
or homecooked meals
No hunger, or need
Desire, or ***
When the stars went out, I assure you:
There was Nothing Left.

Pretty girls,
Rent money,
Used cars and cash for gas,

Rainbows,
Beautiful sunsets,
All kinds of advice for hard times

Long walks on the Gulf coast,
Alcoholic drinks.

Medications,
Days slept in,
Job opportunities and free homecooked meals

Kind extensions from underappreciated friends,
Candy.

Car repairs and music equipment,
Swallowed grief and county jail visits

Everything

Seems to collapse

At the center

Of this boy's heart.